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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25934101">Sad, Beautiful, Tragic</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/izloveshorses/pseuds/izloveshorses'>izloveshorses</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Decent Slavic Sadness™, F/M, they're just... both lonely and stubborn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 05:28:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,405</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25934101</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/izloveshorses/pseuds/izloveshorses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Words, how little they mean, when you're a little too late</em><br/><em>I stood right by the tracks, your face in a locket</em><br/><em>Good girls, hopeful they'll be and long they will wait</em><br/> </p><p>au where Anya doesn't make it to the bridge before Dmitry leaves and what would happen if they eventually crossed paths again.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dimitri | Dmitry/Anya | Anastasia Romanov (Anastasia 1997 &amp; Broadway)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>61</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Sad, Beautiful, Tragic</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>You can thank the entirety of both Taylor Swift's Red and Folklore for this little treat :))</p><p>UPDATE: I may or may not have added a little scene (nothing too drastic! just a little paragraph towards the end) bc it was too good to not include but too small to post as like a separate chapter or something. I also did another sweep for grammar/spelling errors I initially missed. Just letting y'all know in case you come back to this and wonder where some of these changes came from lol. Thank you for reading &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Anya went to the bridge. They’d promised to meet there, after all, so that was probably the best place to start.</p><p>But he wasn’t there. Or the hotel. Or the train station. </p><p>She searched and she waited, but there was only so much time she could stand around in her giant red dress. Swallowing her pride and the heartbreak and the disappointment, she returned to her grandmother, her <em> family, </em> to the one she knew would never leave her behind.</p><p>Vlad didn’t ask what happened but she knew he could tell something was wrong. It didn’t matter. She was thankful she didn’t have to lie to him, too. It felt like her whole life was already a lie, drifting purposeless in a sea of strangers with no lighthouse in sight. She became the person everyone wanted her to be— the beautiful, poised, graceful grand duchess, basking in riches, hiding the hollow shell of who she once was.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Dmitry landed in Germany.</p><p>There was a larger population of Russians there so he could find a job without having to learn an entire new language on his own. Writing off the conning business as something that only led to pain, he found the bartending work in a pub to be bearable and paid enough for him to keep up with rent. The best part was there was almost nothing to remind him of Petersburg or Paris or a certain grand duchess he fell in love with.</p><p>Almost. </p><p>It was impossible not to see her everywhere he went. Her favorite flowers growing in a pot by the door of his apartment building. A dress he’d see in a window of a shop that matched her eyes. The happy couple he’d serve at the bar. Even a doll a child would carry in the streets on his way to work. Anything good or delightful was a reminder of the innocence she carried, the way she looked at him like she could read his mind, the eyes that scorched his dreams. </p><p>He wanted to believe he was fine. But really, the whole experience rattled him. From the narrow escape to leaving the only home he’d known to finding and losing the love of his life all at once… it was a lot. </p><p>But he decided he was better off not letting it happen again. </p><p>His coworkers were rattling on about what they’d read in the paper that morning. He was friendly enough to them and to the regular customers so as not to raise suspicion, but not enough to consider them friends. Most of the time he just kept his head down and focused on his work. No one ever asked any questions, he never offered anything about himself. Never again. He was too restless to settle down and take root to this new place, but too poor to explore anywhere else.</p><p>He was in early to help prepare the pub before it opened when one of his coworkers said something that caught his attention. Usually he tuned out their obnoxious conversations while he scrubbed the bar, but this hit too close to home.</p><p>“I heard she appeared out of nowhere a few months ago—”</p><p>“It sounds like a publicity stunt if you ask me.”</p><p>“Oh yeah, probably. But wow, what a lucky girl, getting all of that money. That old woman may be an idiot but at least she’s generous.”</p><p>Dmitry’s knuckles went white, the glass he was cleaning squeaking in protest in his grip.</p><p>“Aren’t they in town for a couple days? Opening a new orphanage or something?”</p><p>“Something like that.”</p><p>It was too much. Dmitry set the glass on the counter and muttered he was taking his break now and marched out the door, shrugging on his coat. The brittle air calmed his nerves a bit. Now that it was getting cold again the memories of his home were everywhere, soothing the unfamiliarity of his new life and making him miss the old all at the same time.</p><p>This wasn’t the first time he was aware of her whereabouts. Just like Petersburg, rumors and gossip stretched to every corner of the city. Her picture was plastered onto newspapers for a while and would still occasionally pop up again— looking unrecognizable in her red satin gown, glittering with jewels, a gold tiara haloing her head. If it weren’t for her piercing eyes that still burned him in black and white print and her smile, the one where she was hiding a laugh, he could pretend it wasn’t even her. The first time he’d purchased a paper with her face on it was a mistake he corrected by tossing it into the garbage as soon as he could. Whatever it took to erase the memories of the girl who seemed to follow him everywhere, no matter how hard he tried, hoping time would heal and help him forget, but only strengthening the ache.</p><p>Rationality caught up to him. No, there was no way they’d cross paths again. He never really left this neighborhood, somewhere she and the Dowager would never step foot in, so even if she was in town there was no chance he’d run into her. He’d made peace with that a long time ago. Taking one last deep breath, he rubbed his cold hands together and prepared himself to go back inside. </p><p>But when he turned… there she was. Radiant as the last time he saw her, though not in an evening gown, standing on the sidewalk, mirroring his surprise. Her lips curled into a cautious, hopeful smile, making him forget how to breathe all over again.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Anya was traveling with her grandmother to help with the various charities they were invested in. That was all they were good for, apparently, with no political authority but oodles of money to share.</p><p>She wasn’t used to having enough to give away. Too bad she felt she could never give her heart to anyone again.</p><p>Every city they visited Anya insisted she explore before they settled into their responsibilities. At first, Nanna would explore with her, talking about the trips the family took, but she didn’t have as much energy as she used to, so Anya often took these walks alone nowadays. Other than the bodyguard hired shortly after her encounter with Gleb.</p><p>Being back in Germany resurfaced memories of train rides and sleeping in stations and various back seats, of breaths of relief after escaping certain death, of a head of brown hair resting on her shoulder and a laugh that could make the birds sing. </p><p>She tried to fight her thoughts from wandering to the forbidden corner of her mind by overwhelming it with the sites of this new city. She never tired of meeting the locals, trying the food, studying the art and finding someone to dance with. Usually the latter option was someone Nanna picked out for her. In a classier club than what she was familiar with. A man whose hands were too soft for her taste.</p><p>Anyway. </p><p>She was wandering one of the many charming streets of shops and restaurants when a man barged out of a pub. The universe must have been reading her thoughts because when he turned and met her eyes, it was him. </p><p>A rush of memories, memories she’d kept locked away and never dared touch, flooded her vision. Dmitry’s mouth hung open in shock. Heart in her throat, a smile bloomed on her face— she couldn’t help it. He was even more beautiful than she remembered.</p><p>But just as quickly as their eyes met he turned on his heel to go back inside. That was unexpected. She frowned and marched up to slam her fist on the door.</p><p>“Dmitry,” she called, confused and exasperated. “I know you’re in there.”</p><p>“We’re… closed?” he said it like a question, his voice muffled by the door.</p><p>She huffed. “You don’t have to do that. Not with me.”</p><p>A long moment passed and she thought he’d left. But finally she heard a sigh and the door squeaked open and he was there again and real as ever. He scratched the back of his head. “I kind of panicked.”</p><p>A sarcastic retort sat on her tongue but it never escaped, the air between them too tense for jokes. “May I come in?”</p><p>He nodded, staring as if he were waiting for her to disappear like the ghosts of her imagination. He stepped aside to let her in. But before she could move a voice behind her grunted, “Miss, this isn’t a good idea—”</p><p>“It’s okay Sergei,” she stopped her bodyguard from moving closer with a hand up. He was a large, burly, older man who followed her in public, warding off unwanted trouble. He was kind, at least, so it wasn’t too terrible. “This is Dmitry, he’s…” what word was big enough to describe who he was to her? “We escaped Russia together.”</p><p>Sergei nodded. He wasn’t a man of many words but she knew that meant she was in the clear. </p><p>Inside, Dmitry gave her a look of confusion. “Nanna thought it would be wise to hire extra protection,” she said. Neither of them were ready for further explanation. </p><p>That seemed to be sufficient, though. When they slid into a booth he said, “Your Nanna never saw you chase four ruffians with a stick.”</p><p>She laughed once, relieved to hear a joke from him again, but her smile fell when she saw his brow was still furrowed and jaw still tight. He finally looked at her again and asked, “Don’t grand duchesses have cars and drivers?”</p><p>She shrugged. “I like to sightsee on foot.”</p><p>“Hmm.” He shifted in his seat across from her. “Can I get you a drink?”</p><p>“Sure?”</p><p>He stood. “Stay here, these guys” —he pointed to two gentlemen behind the bar glancing at them with curious eyes— “don’t ask a lot of questions but I don’t want to give them any extra opportunities.”</p><p>She gave him a small smile. He was still protecting her. “Okay.”</p><p>While he was preparing drinks she got a good look at the pub. It was a little run down, some of the seats were stained and the floor was sticky, but there was an unmistakable charm to the place. The trim was delicately carved, the paint, though chipping, was bright and colorful, matching the culture she remembered enjoying. </p><p>Dmitry returned with two tall glasses of beer. It was a little early for drinks but… she would need it to get through this conversation. She took a sip and realized it was the same beer she liked when they were traveling through Germany, he must’ve remembered. </p><p>He tapped a finger on the table for several minutes. A nervous habit. She wanted to reach out to take his hand— they were always warm in spite of the cold weather— but that probably wasn’t appropriate right now. “You look nice,” he finally said.</p><p>She blushed, embarrassed by her expensive appearance. A fur coat. A stylish dress. A chignon under her hat. “Nanna picked out the coat for me.”</p><p>He laughed, cold and humorless, nothing like the laugh she loved. “How is Marie?”</p><p>“Good!” she finished her sip. “Loving as ever.”</p><p>“She should be,” he muttered.</p><p>Anya didn’t really know what to say to that so she switched subjects. “What brought you here?”</p><p>He shrugged and crossed his arms, resting his elbows on the table. “This is a pretty big Russian neighborhood, so I don’t have to learn a new language just to earn a living.”</p><p>“That’s good,” she said. When he didn’t say anything else she asked, “Have you picked up any German?”</p><p>“Some. Languages don’t really stick. For me, at least.”</p><p>She nodded, remembering when she and Vlad had tried to teach him some French after they made it to Paris. “Do you like your job?”</p><p>“It puts money on the table,” he shrugged again. “Beats forging travel papers.”</p><p>“There’s probably not much of a market for that,” she responded with a smile.</p><p>“No. No one to con or deceive.”</p><p>Her smile fell at the memory of their last conversation. <em> That was my life you played with! Telling me I was someone else, letting me believe I was— </em> </p><p>“How’s Vlad?” he asked after another long sip. </p><p>“Happy.” That made one of them. “He and Lily are… happy.”</p><p>“That’s good.”</p><p>“He mentions you a lot.”</p><p>He clenched his jaw. “You should tell him to write more often.”</p><p>“We— he doesn’t know where you are.”</p><p>“Still, you managed to find me, right?” He finished his glass and let it land heavily on the table.</p><p>“By accident. You could’ve written to him, you knew where he was.”</p><p>“He’s probably too busy clubbing with aristocrats.”</p><p>“But he’s your friend and he’s worried about you!”</p><p>“He dropped me like a hot potato after he found Lily, he knows I’m fine.”</p><p>“After almost dying a million times on the way?”</p><p>“If he wanted to check in with me so much why didn’t he just come when I was still in town?”</p><p>“Because you left out of nowhere!” her voice rose accidentally and he looked up at her. Just like that, she was transported back to last winter, when she broke into an abandoned palace and met the most frustrating man alive. He was impossible to read, impossible to talk to, impossible to find common ground with, until he wasn’t. Except now his hair was a little longer and they were both better off now. Supposedly. </p><p>If that were true, why was she more lost and lonely than she’d ever been?</p><p>He sighed. “I need to get back to work soon.”</p><p>She nodded, finished her glass, and rose to her feet. He stood too, mirroring her, both unsure of what was supposed to happen next. Before he could step away she blurted, “There’s a party—” </p><p>He stuffed his hands in his pockets and met her eyes again. There was still so much to say, so much to ask, but all of the words seemed to have left her mind. Instead she continued almost in panic, “There’s this… auction I have to go to tomorrow. For a charity event. Vlad will be there, if you want to come.” There. That would buy her enough time to figure out… everything.</p><p>He blinked. “You’re inviting me to a… charity auction?”</p><p>“Yes. I mean, they’re pretty boring and you’d probably hate it, but there’s free food and you’ll get to see Vlad again.”</p><p>“Where is it?”</p><p>It wasn’t a yes or a no but she’d take it. She scribbled the time and address on a napkin and handed it to him. “Just show them this at the door and they’ll let you in.”</p><p>He didn’t immediately crumple it up when he took it. That was a start. He looked at the napkin, then back to the bar, and then down at her. “I’ll walk you out.”</p><p>Outside they exchanged a tense goodbye. Before she walked away he called her name. “It was… good to see you.”</p><p>Her lips spread into a grin and he gave her a half smile in return before going back inside. Too many old emotions had just resurfaced, but at least one of them was good.</p><p>“Where to now, miss?” Sergei asked in a hushed tone. </p><p>“Home— I mean, the hotel.” He nodded, oblivious of her slipup. Oblivious that her home was the person she was walking away from.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The rest of Dmitry’s shift dragged on in a daze. He knew his hands were working, but his mind was a million miles away, the note burning a hole in his pocket. </p><p>The odds of her finding him right when he was thinking about her was… well, actually, he was always thinking about her. But still. What a way to rattle him. It was like talking to a figure from his dreams. There she was, everything he ever wanted, right in front of him again, still smiling, and he was still the jerk who pushed her away. </p><p>The next morning he pulled his old blue suit— his only suit— out of the closet. No, it wasn’t dressy enough. He’d sold the tux months ago to pay rent before he got his job, so if he were to theoretically attend this gala, the suit would have to do. But nope, he wouldn’t go. He wasn’t that stupid. The clock ticked away and he sighed, staring between the stuit laying on his bed and the napkin on his dresser.</p><p>Maybe it was time for something stupid.</p><p>Later, he stood in front of the entrance of the address Anya gave to him, holding out the napkin to the doorman, who, surprisingly, let him inside. Feeling small under the tall, elaborate ceilings, he lost himself in the crowd of the wealthy, and he realized how underdressed he was. Oh well. It wasn’t like he’d fit in either way. But then a familiar face caught his eye.</p><p>“Dmitry!” Vlad called with an eccentric grin. “I don’t believe it.”</p><p>Dmitry found himself wrapped in a hug. Despite what happened, he did miss his old friend. “It’s good to see you.”</p><p>“You have no idea how good it is to see <em> you, </em> my boy!” Vlad clapped him on the back. “You look well. Come, there are free cocktails and the dinner is marvelous— oh, Anya! Look who’s here!”</p><p>Suddenly he was not at all prepared for this. A woman turned and when he met her eyes he realized it was her again, still shocking him to his core, looking completely royal in red. </p><p>Vlad either didn’t sense the tension or was just too excited to let them ruin his night, flinging his arms around both of their shoulders. “The trio’s back together! Just like old times!” It wasn’t. “I’d better go find Lily. You kids enjoy the party!” With another grin, he skipped away, leaving behind two people with too much history.</p><p>The silence stretched on, neither of them wanting to make the first move or yield. The chatter of the crowd melted away and it felt like they were the only two in the room. Her poise from seconds ago was gone, fiddling with her gloves, searching the floor for something to say. “You came,” she finally landed on, looking up at him with those hopeful doe eyes like he hung the moon. </p><p>This was a mistake. Rubbing the back of his neck he answered, “Like you said, I needed to see Vlad.”</p><p>“Right.” She frowned, jaw tight, disappointment hardening into anger. “I won’t take up more of your time then.”</p><p>He started to say something as she walked away but only a sigh came out of his lips. Great start to the night. Time to hit the free cocktails that were advertised. </p><p>At the bar, Vlad ambushed him again and reintroduced him to Lily. He liked her in this context— she was rather friendly when she didn’t have to pull him away from the Dowager. Though pinching his cheek was a little much. </p><p>After they found other friends to entertain themselves with he knocked his drink back. No one approached him and he was fine with that. It wasn’t like he had friends in Petersburg, but he knew the locals and they’d bonded over the mutual need to survive. Here there wasn’t that kind of desperation. </p><p>It was terribly lonely. </p><p>Someone with a tray of shrimps in glasses offered him some and, as a former street rat, he could never refuse free food, so he stuffed a few in his pockets and found more. Across the sea of people he met the menacing glare of Marie herself. He swallowed. Her eyebrows raised and then, unexpectedly, she smiled, and he was not at all prepared for how to respond to that so he raced through the crowd to the nearest door, finding himself on a balcony with bitter winds biting his cheeks. The perfect hideout. </p><p>He sighed and leaned his elbows on the railing. Remembering the food he swiped, he was pulling out a shrimp from his pocket when a voice made him jump.</p><p>“I saw that.”</p><p>Anya was standing a couple yards away by the railing, amused by his attempted snack. He blushed and stuffed the shrimp back into his pocket. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”</p><p>She shrugged. “It’s a valuable instinct.” </p><p>He watched her swirl her drink for a second. “Why are you standing out here in the cold?”</p><p>“It gets a little overwhelming in there. Eventually I always find myself needing a break.” He nodded. “Why are you out here?”</p><p>He shrugged. “I think your grandmother still has a restraining order against me.”</p><p>She rewarded him with a laugh and he couldn’t help but let a smile escape. “She wouldn’t do that,” she said. And then quieter, “She’s fond of you.”</p><p>“Oh,” he didn’t know what else to say to that. Her eyes shone bright and he felt like she was reading his thoughts so he looked away. Rubbing his neck he muttered, “Why did you invite me here?”</p><p>She looked down. “I don’t know.”</p><p>“That’s not an answer.”</p><p>“I missed you, okay?” That made his gaze snap back to her. “I never thought I’d see you again after you left and I just… it seemed like a good idea. And I thought we could talk.”</p><p>“About what?” He raised his hands in disbelief. “What do you want me to say? ‘Hey, Anya, it’s been a while, yes I’m still as poor as I was back in Petersburg, thank you for asking! Now I get to flaunt my rags to your friends!’” He shook his head. “What a joke.”</p><p>She winced. “That’s not why I invited you to come and you know that.” A pause. “Nanna told me you didn’t take the reward money… and I— I wanted to ask you why.”</p><p>He sighed and rubbed a scuff on the floor with his foot. “A rash act of stupidity.”</p><p>“But why? It was what you came for, right?”</p><p>“I just…” he dropped his shoulders. “I thought it was the right thing.” She softened and nodded, but he couldn’t stand the pity. “I should’ve just taken it.” It would’ve been easier to shake that part of his life.</p><p>The softness vanished and disgust erupted onto her face. “You don’t think that.”</p><p>“At least I’d be happy! At least I wouldn’t be clinging onto the past like an idiot!”</p><p>“Money won’t make you happy, you of all people know that.”</p><p>“You seem better off because of it.”</p><p>“I’m <em> miserable!” </em> She shouted. “I don’t even know who I am anymore. This all feels like a game of pretend, it’s a nightmare.”</p><p>“Poor princess, more money than you know what to do with.”</p><p>“This isn’t a competition to see who’s worse off—”</p><p>“You have <em> everything.” </em> His hand waved at the door, at the parade inside. “You have your family, your vacations, your friends, <em> my </em> friend, and I have <em> nothing! </em> I gave it all up to bartend for the rest of my life!”</p><p>“At least you’re free! You can go wherever you want, you don’t have to be a criminal any more—”</p><p>“I may as well be! I’m still the jerk who scammed people, just in a different city. I tried to do the right thing <em> once </em> and all it did was put me back where I started!”</p><p>They were nose to nose now. “Are you <em> trying </em> to be an asshole? Is that easier for you?”</p><p>He laughed. “Don’t have to try.”</p><p>“You just want to be awful so you feel better about where you are!”</p><p>“You think I’m awful? Good, get in line. No one can hate me more than I hate myself right now.”</p><p>“I don’t— you’re a <em> good person, </em> you deserve to be happy if you just try!” She punctuated each word by jamming her finger into his chest.</p><p>“I did try!” He had waited for the impossible. “And then I found out you’re just like the rest of them!”</p><p>He didn’t need to specify who “them” was, understanding and hurt crossed her face. He took her silence as an opportunity to escape. “I hope you enjoy your night.” With that he stormed through the doors to leave, loosening his tie, his cheeks burning with shame. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Watching him walk away, powerless to stop him, Anya was reminded of the dreadful night he left. She hadn’t said a word of it to anyone, embarrassed by her own emotions, and swore to never speak of it again. </p><p>She could hide from her feelings in the day but in the night he still came back to haunt her. Her dreams would start as they always did: dark, in a close embrace, faceless. But instead of her family being ripped away from her by nameless soldiers, it was Dmitry, his scowl not unlike the one he wore tonight, turning away, disappearing from her fingertips. Somehow it was worse watching him choose to leave her than watching the brutal deaths of her family. Except now, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t wake from this nightmare, even as it was happening right before her eyes.</p><p>She remembered one night waking up with her throat raw from calling out to him, begging him to wait, to look back, to only see how much she wanted him to stay. Her grandmother had come to comfort her when she finally asked about him.</p><p>“Why would he leave me?” Anya had said. “I thought— I thought maybe he loved me.”</p><p>“Oh, my dear,” Nanna whispered, taking her face in her hands. “He left <em> because </em> he loves you.”</p><p>It would’ve been so <em> easy </em> to accept this as closure. To agree that he was a jerk and not the person she believed he was, to understand that she romanticized what they had, to turn around and say goodbye to that part of her life forever. All she had to do was move on.</p><p>Instead she followed him.</p><p>Ignoring the many patrons calling her name and her bodyguard insisting she stay inside she shoved her way through the crowd and out the door. </p><p>“Hey!” she called to the figure walking through the low-lit street. He kept walking. She raced to catch up with him. “We have to finish this!”</p><p>“What more could you possibly want from me?” He called back without looking. </p><p>A lot. “I want you to not walk away from me again.”</p><p><em> “Walk away?” </em> He scoffed. “You were done with me!”</p><p>“I went looking for you!”</p><p>That stopped him cold. Now that he was listening she continued, “I searched everywhere, embarrassing myself running all over the city. But you were already gone.”</p><p>“We must’ve just missed each other then.”</p><p>Her heart sped up. “Did you—“</p><p>“I waited. On the bridge.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and the cold wind made her shiver. “I don’t know why. Maybe a small part of me thought you’d come…”</p><p>The words were a punch to the gut. He’d waited. And she was too late.</p><p>But then he was walking away again. “So what? That’s it?” She marched alongside him. “You leave again like it was nothing?”</p><p>“It doesn’t matter,” he muttered, “because I’m not the man you need.”</p><p>“The man <em> I </em> need? Or the man” —she gestured in the direction behind them— “Anastasia needs?”</p><p>“At this point there’s not much of a difference, is there?” </p><p>Her fists clenched at her sides. “Why are you so determined to be miserable?”</p><p>“Why are you so hellbent on following me? Go back to your party and spend time with people you don’t hate.”</p><p>“I don’t hate you!”</p><p>A shadow crossed his face, cold and sad. “You made it pretty clear last time we saw each other.”</p><p>She winced. <em> I was cold and hungry and desperate when I met you, but I wasn’t dishonest! I hate you for that! </em> “I wanted to. I tried to hate you for leaving me, but you were just bringing me to my family.”</p><p>He sighed. “I thought you’d be happier if...”</p><p>“I tried to be happy… I’m grateful, but I just—” she shook her head. “I hate the person I’ve become.”</p><p>He rubbed his face washed in self-loathing. “So go, then.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Go find someone who will make you happy.”</p><p>“I can’t do that.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“You know those guys in there aren’t for me.” </p><p>“Just go try!” He was exasperated now, facing her and wildly gesturing his arms. </p><p>“No!”</p><p>“Why! Why can’t you just let me go!”</p><p>“Because I love you!”</p><p>The words jumped from her mouth without her control. The force of them made him take a step back, stunned silent. A dog started barking from a few blocks away. He was looking at her in disbelief, like he was waiting for her to take back what she said, as if her words were still hanging in the air between them. She had to look down because tears were blurring her vision and his shock didn’t help. </p><p>She continued in a quieter, unsteady voice, “I tried looking for you because I thought— was I naive enough to think you felt the same?”</p><p>Nothing. Silence. And then footsteps. And then a warm hand wiping a tear from her cheek, the touch jolting her skin, all of the hardness in his face gone, his throat bobbing. “No.”</p><p>Finally, for the first time in months, they were on the same page. She’d found him again, walls in ruins, pride abandoned, raw desire and hope in her veins. For a second she looked for any irony or bitterness in his face but only found solemn hesitancy, wanting something out of reach. With nothing left to lose she stood on her toes and pressed her lips to his, two stars colliding. </p><p>He let out a surprised noise but immediately wrapped his arm tight around her back to pull her flush against him and the other around her neck, clinging on like she was a lifeline in a stormy sea, his warmth making her forget the bitter wind that was making her teeth chatter only moments ago. Her hands roamed to grab anything in reach— his collar, his face, his shirt— before looping around his neck and climbing up into his hair. He kissed her like he’d been kissing her his whole life and simultaneously like he was making up for lost time. She drank him in, swallowing his breaths like sips of wine.</p><p>“You’re not leaving me again,” she whispered when they broke apart, fingers curling into the hair at the nape of his neck, silently asking him to stay, “right?”</p><p>His smile put the stars to shame. His hand tightened around her shoulder and he gave her another— tamer— kiss and said, “Not a chance.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Dmitry quit his job the next day. Anya was supposed to head back to Paris soon and he wasn’t going to miss out on her company any longer. </p><p>In the meantime Anya talked to the Dowager about the possibility of slipping under the radar of the media. “It’s not the life for me,” she had said to him, and the Dowager agreed that with time and care she could leave the court life seamlessly. Already Anya carried herself with the light he hadn’t seen since they first made it to Paris. </p><p>“No bodyguard?” he asked as they walked to the train station. They met at his apartment after packing for a new adventure, Anya greeting him with a kiss and a “Hello, Dima.” He didn’t care where they went, he said, as long as he got to follow her. Eventually they were to land back in Paris to settle. But first, they deserved a break.</p><p>“If Gleb ever comes back, I think you and I could take him.”</p><p>He laughed and kissed the top of her head. “You’re right. Oh—” he held up his suitcase, “Do I need to buy a nicer suit before meeting your grandmother again? I still think she has a restraining order against me.”</p><p>She giggled, bubbly and joyful and contagious. How was it only days ago he thought he could be happy without her under his arm? Without her brilliant smile aimed at him, without being able to freely bend over for a kiss? “No, my prince is perfect,” she said, reaching up to ruffle his hair.</p><p>No, that wasn’t right. With her hand in his he was the richest person in Europe. “You make me feel like a king.”</p>
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